Inevitable Incineration

A.J. Huffman

 

Your lips are gasoline

rosebuds, and I am a moment

of striking match. Together we are erupting

inferno, a malleable combustive form,

feeding ourselves into predictable bits

of immobilized ash.

 

Unread Books

 

Ink impressions cross empty space.

Rectangular

catalogs of

words, ideas.

Useless letters and symbols, scribed

for eyes. Remains closed. Muted

between covers, unopened.

Simon Perchik

 

*

 

Here, there, the way silence

tows you below the waterline

and though you are alone

 

you're not sure where her name

is floating on the surface

or what's left

 

grasped by a single wave

that never makes it to shore

splashes as if this pen

 

is rowing you across the stillness

the dead are born with

--you are already bathing, half

 

from memory, half by leaping

from the water for flowers

growing everywhere --for you

this page, unclaimed :a knife

dripping with seawater

and your throat.

Committed to Memory

Ryan Lucas

 

For all its

good qualities,

time is a selfish lover.

 

When you feel

the need to match

its concupiscent power,

 

it pulls ahead.

Then, spent, satisfied,

it leaves you to the cold bed of your mind.

2647213782_9500cac028

L i t e r a r y . J u i c e

An Online Literary Magazine

Poet

Tree

Saloonatics

Jevin Lee Albuquerque

 

Saloonaticking time bombs

Arms spun back

Blues hazing

Clocks explode

Roman numerals, floating

Purple hazing, clouds above the disheveled

Downtrodden and beat memories engraved

The bar

Hard wood

Dance floors

Whores

Earrings jingle

Gum plucked

Chewed into past

Hooked on Roman numerals

Floating

Sipped mayflies

June

A little too late

October/November 2013

Saloonatics -  Jevin Lee Albuquerque

Inevitable Incineration - A.J. Huffman

Unread Book - A.J. Huffman

Spring Conjuring - Alex Greenberg

Here, there, the way silence - Simon Perchik

Committed to Memory - Ryan Lucas

Alex Greenberg is a 14-year-old poet with work published or forthcoming in Spinning Jenny, Literary Bohemian, Burningword, My Favorite Bullet, The Boiler, Cuckoo Quarterly, The Cadaverine, and Louisville Review. Greenberg is a Foyle Young Poet of 2012 and 2013.

Jevin Lee Albuquerque lives in Bozeman, Montana. He recently completed his second full-length novel, American Mess.  His fiction has appeared in Double Take, Points of Entry, and Map Magazine in Madrid.  In a former life he played soccer professionally.  He has a degree in Latin American Studies from UCLA.

Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review,

The Nation, Poetry, The New Yorker, and elsewhere. His most recent collection is Almost Rain, published by River Otter Press (2013).  For more information, including free e-books, his essay titled “Magic, Illusion and Other Realities”, please visit his website at www.simonperchik.com.

A.J. Huffman’s poetry, fiction, and haiku have appeared in hundreds of national and international journals, including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, and Offerta Speciale, in which her work appeared in both English and Italian translation.  She is also the founding editor of Kind of a Hurricane Press. www.kindofahurricanepress.com 

Spring Conjuring:

          for Nana

Alex Greenberg

 

I've been resting on my back

in this patch of grass

for so long

that the flowers

have started growing through me.

They prick in from the spine

a few inches past

the board of my sternum.

Body like Christ,

fat hands curled up & hugging

the ground

like two dead beetles,

I give myself over.

 

On my stomach,

a daylily twitches

then unfurls

like the empty hand

of a magic trick

while the others around me

squat in their shut ovoids,

cradling a glimmer.

The pennies

of all their old clients.

 

One day,

the flower in me,

the flower that is me

will die.

One day I will have to snip it

from my stomach

like an umbilical cord

and toss it to the soil

where it will sink

and be reborn.

I was tossed in the soil

too, January of '98,

and my body is still

rotting out its smell

like a pack of used matches.

I haven't been reborn.

Ryan Lucas is a 32-year-old graduate student in the creative writing program at the University of Denver.  He is currently working on his final project, a novel about the function of major sports in American culture and the fallibility of humanity.